For my writing class we're given daily prompts, and sometimes the prompt is a photo. We write for 10 minutes–12 minutes max–and hit the send button. Our writing partner changes every week. This is my writing from today. Photo by Jane Underwood.March 21, 2010
This is the photo they showed me of my skin before the dermabrasion incident. They used a macro lens right beneath my jaw bone, and the computer screen was mounted on the ceiling directly above my face. I could see right away that I needed to schedule a treatment.
At two o'clock the next Friday I was lying on the same table again, excited about the transformation that was about to occur. I had scheduled the treatment so that I could hide out over the weekend and return to the office with a radiant glow on Monday.
And I'm sure that's how it would have gone had the Fremont Earthquake not hit at exactly 2:14 p.m. I heard a noise like a bomb above me and that's all I remember.
When I "came to" that Sunday evening I couldn't see anything. And no wonder! My whole head was wrapped in bandages. My husband was there holding my hand. He told me about the earthquake. The computer screen had detached itself from the ceiling as the aesthetician was doing my nose.
Damn! It's not that I was ever in love with my nose–it was shaped like a turnip and sloped to the right–but now that it's gone I miss it. There's only a flat smooth place where it used to be. And I'll have to wait another six months for a replacement.
